


Labor Of Love

by thelightintheattic



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arranged Marriage, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-06-03 04:45:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6597244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelightintheattic/pseuds/thelightintheattic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jim applied to Starfleet Academy he had expected a lot of things, however, being chosen to marry in order to create a union between The Federation and Vulcan was not one of those things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Labor Of Love

“Hell no,” It drops from Jim’s mouth immediately, coated in malice and ripped out of his throat.

“Jim,” Pike’s voice is weary. He sighs in annoyance as he rubs a hand down his face. He’s gotten older, that much is apparent from the deepened lines, the crow’s feet collected at the sides of his eyes, the streaks of gray at his temples. But he is still the man Jim holds in high regard. That fact alone makes it hard to hate him, and Jim is angry, because if it was anyone else Jim would have no problem telling them to go fuck themselves and leaving the room with a one finger salute. Consequences be damned.

“No,” Jim repeats through gritted teeth, hands clenching and unclenching, a tell he thought he’d ditched after Tarsus IV, apparently not. But then again he’d thought he’d ditched a lot in his life. Funny the way somethings stayed with him. “I don’t know what the hell you think this is, but you can’t just drop something like this on someone and then in the same breath say that you aren’t whoring them out.”

Pike’s eyes are drawn to the movement of Jim’s hands; the unintentional rhythmic motion, the knuckles whitening for a fraction of a second before finding relief. Jim forces himself to stop. Pike’s eyes find Jim’s again, and Jim refuses to hold his gaze, looking instead out the window. It’s the beginning of summer, sunlight streaming through the leaves that are moving gently in the warm June breeze, making wavy patchwork patterns on anything lucky enough to be underneath the tree’s leafy canopy. Pike’s window outlooks the front of Starfleet Headquarters from the second story, showcasing stretches of cement with trees and other plant life place strategically among the entrance, along with the busy life of the federation as life forms dressed in the standard red uniform walk to and from the building.

“Jim,” Pike repeats, and Jim knows that tone, it’s the one he uses when Jim’s visibly agitated and Pike is trying to placate him, like hes some kind of wild animal that’s been wounded and Pike is trying to show hes harmless, that hes on Jim’s side.

“It wasn’t my choice,” Pike continues, as if that’ll make everything okay suddenly. It doesn’t.

“Yeah, I figure that much,” Jim bites out, it sounds as bitter as he feels, but he can’t bring himself to care. “But you’re still a part of it, they say jump and you ask how high,” Jim knows it is as unfair as it is untrue, but he says it anyway. Maybe because he wants to sting Pike a bit, just enough to get satisfaction from it, or maybe he’s just being spiteful, probably both.

Pike sighs again, but other than that doesn’t show any other reaction to Jim’s words, maybe he’s use to it. He’s been around Jim long enough. “Look,” The older man says. “You know how much this matters, especially to the federation,”

“So what?” Jim snaps. “I’m just supposed to go along with it like I’m not signing away my life?”

“You’re not signing away your life, Jim,” Pike counters, his tone is still even and Jim use to hate that he could never rile Pike enough to make him shout, he’s use to it now, the way Pike is use to him. “We’ve never made contact with Vulcan, we’ve tried, but they’re untrusting,” Pike says as Jim watches the patchwork of sunshine filter through the foliage and cover a small square of the cement. “They finally reached out, but they’ve decided they’d only unite with the federation after we give them a reason to trust us.”

“So you just whore me out?” Jim snarls as he turns sharply to face Pike. “Like its no big deal? Like, ‘oh here you go, have everything you want, oh, what’s that? You want to marry one of us? Oh okay, fuck everyone, here you go.”

“It’s not like that, Jim,” Pike replies, he sounds weary and a part of Jim feels bad for making him sound that way, but its drowned out by the anger of the whole situation, he feels backed into a corner with no way out and he’s never liked being trapped and that feeling overrides every other emotion tangling in his chest.

“Then what’s it like?” Jim demands.

“They chose you, not us,” Pike explains and the words don’t make Jim feel better, it makes his face flush with frustration.

“Then tell them no! Tell them pick again! Tell them I’m not available or interested!” Jim isn’t yelling, not yet, but he’s getting louder and knows he’ll be shouting soon, can feel it bubbling up his throat, hot and toxic and demanding to be spilled from his mouth.

“That’s not how this works and you know it,” Pike replies, his tone is firm, nonnegotiable. “Besides, I couldn’t even if I agreed with you.”

Jim reels back at the sudden confession. “What are you talking about?”

Pike doesn’t say anything, looking out the window, and Jim is suddenly aware of how quiet it is, and the silence feels heavy, like the atmosphere changed suddenly and Jim’s body has yet to adjust and so he’s just standing there wondering if he’ll get use to the atmospheric shift first or if it’ll just crush him. He’s betting on the latter.

“The admiral already agreed, picked a date and signed,” Pike admits, he doesn’t look at Jim as he says this, stares out the window without seeing anything. “You leave to Vulcan in the morning. The shuttle will be waiting at 0530, and you have to be on it.”

Jim doesn’t reply, he can’t, there is nothing to say, no way out and Jim has to swallow the toxic substance as it retreats back down his throat seeming to burn his voice box as it sinks into his chest where it just feels slimy.

Pike finally turns his eyes to him, and Jim stares back, Pike looks regretful and pity sits in his eyes, and Jim is the first to look away, he’s never done well with pity, he’d thought he’d be used to it being surrounded by it his whole life, but he isn’t, he’s not.

“Jim-“ Pike starts, but Jim is already across the room, out the door, out the goddamn building and before he knows it he’s running, he doesn’t know where to, never does when he runs. All he knows he is needs to get away from whatever just conspired. He runs through the street, weaving through the crowds, ignoring the shouts from fellow pedestrians. After what he just found out, he earned the right to be inconsiderate.

 He runs even as his calves start complaining and his heart is working double time. He runs until he reaches his unknown destination, stands in front of the dorm room and bends over, bracing himself on his knees as he huffs out a breathless laugh. Of course this is where his subconscious takes him. His feet always knows where to go even when he has no clue where to turn to.   

The light is on under the door, alerting him to the presence of his dorm mate. Jim fumbles as he pulls the keycard out of his wallet and silds it into the slot, the lock clicking as it opens and Jim wastes no time tumbling into the room. His roommate looks up from the medical tablet filled with everything needed for the semester’s classes sitting in front of him on the desk, his PADD is open on three different pages and a bottle of whiskey is sitting half empty next to the man’s elbow and Jim has never been happier to see him.

The man raises an eyebrow at Jim’s appearance, and he can’t imagine how he must appear; out of breath, flushed red from exertion, sweaty and with a rumpled uniform that had been so neatly pressed when he had left earlier for his appointment at Starfleet Headquarters.

“I hope you out ran that son of a bitch,”  Bones gruffs, turning back to his medical book, no longer interested in whatever bullshit Jim might be trying to pull him into now. “Cause I’m not having anything to do with your shit.”

Jim rolls his eyes, but can’t keep the grin off his face as he shuts the door behind him. “Why do you always think I got into a fight, I can be civil.”

Bones snorts. “Still waiting on proof for that statement,” He mumbles, not even bothering to look up from the tablet anymore.

Jim ignores him in favor of crossing the room and dropping to his knees in front of Bones’ bed, pressing his cheek to the carpet as he searches for what he knows will be there, the scratching sensation is worth the prize he manages to retrieve from Bones’ stash of alcohol that he keeps tucked safely and unregulated under his mattress.  

“Hey, kid, the hell do you think you’re doing?” Bones demands, but Bones has always been all bark and no bite, or well to Jim he has, so he ignores him as he twists the cap off the peach whiskey and starts chugging like its some war that Jim had been forced to study in high school and he’s going to get his legs sawed off.

“Hey, hey!” Bones says, as he abandons his study session in favor of prying the bottle from Jim’s fingers mid swallow, successfully spilling the whiskey not only down Jim’s shirt, but on his leg and the carpet as well. “The hell you think you’re doing?” He repeats, holding the bottle out of Jim’s reach when he makes a grab for it.

“Throwing myself a bachelor party,” Jim answers, he can feel the alcohol coursing through his veins, he is by no means a light weight, but he hasn’t eaten anything since yesterday night and he chugged nearly a third of the bottle in the space of ten seconds.

Bones looks at him like he’s grown a second head, and he almost reaches up to check before he remembers that humans can’t do that. He reaches for the bottle instead. Bones pulls it back again, keeping it from him and he frowns.

“Is that right?” Bones asks, raising the eyebrow again. “Didn’t think you were the marrying type.”

“Neither did I,” Jim shrugs, he knows Bones doesn’t mean anything by it, even if he did, Jim wouldn’t care. He has more things to worry about than if his best friend thinks he can’t settle down.

“You wanna fill me in on what exactly happened in the span of you leaving the dorm in perfect uniform and refusing to shut up about possibly getting assigned a mission to coming back out of breath, looking like you ran a damn marathon and chugging my good whiskey, spewing shit about getting married,” Bones says, his tone lets Jim know he’s tired of his shit.

Jim grins to himself, he’s been in Bones’ company for nearly five minutes and he’s already done with him, that’s got to be a new record.

“Yeah, the federation married me off to some Vulcan so they can have another fleet to add to their collection,” Jim replies, he says it like its nothing, like he’s commenting on the summer breeze. He’s always been good with fronts, and it’s easy to act like he could care less when he’s got a third of a bottle of whiskey working its way through his system.

Bones looks as pissed as Jim feels and he’s grateful he’s not alone in thinking this is total bullshit.

“They can’t do that, can they?” Bones snarls.

“They did, signed me off and everything,” Jim informs him. “I have a shuttle to catch tomorrow at 0530.”

Bones promptly hands Jim back the bottle of peach whiskey, its sticky where the liquid had spilled down the side when Bones had snatched it from him, but Jim doesn’t mind, he just takes another swing and watches as Bones pulls a second bottle out from under his bed. He settles down next to Jim and twists the cap off.

“No use in drinking alone,” Bones shrugs, then tosses back a fourth of the bottle in one go.

Jim laughs and crashes his bottle against Bones’, its harder than he means to and the sound of colliding glass echoes and bounces around the room.

“Shit, Jim, are you trying to break the bottles?” Bones curses, but he’s not mad, not really, Jim can tell.

“You already spilled some on the carpet, I don’t see why it matters,” Jim replies, glancing at the drying stain.

“Whatever, it’s hardly noticeable. Its your damn fault anyway,” Bones grumbles, scowling.

Jim takes another swing of whiskey, it doesn’t burn his throat, not the way Bones’ other whiskey tends to.

“You’re paying me back for that bottle,” Bones says, but Jim knows he doesn’t mean it, knows he doesn’t really care. But that’s why Jim likes Bones, its why he made sure they roomed together. Because Bones had always been a comfort, a piece of home that Jim didn’t know existed until he met the man. Even when he’d been forced to sit next to him on the shuttle and apologized in advance in case he threw up on him. He hadn’t.

Bones made home make sense, made something that hadn’t ever been connected in a positive way, okay. Growing up had been full of runaway brothers and shitty stepfathers and absent mothers and dead fathers and pity and then massacres and more pity and bar fights and ‘why can’t you be more like your dad?’ and he always wondered if that meant he should be dead.

But Bones never pitied him, not for a second, Bones believed in buck up or shut up and never once put up with Jim’s whining and it wasn’t fake, or a play. Jim knew what lying looked like, he saw it in a mirror every day. Bones was real, and at first Jim didn’t know how to react. He skirted around the man, careful in what he said, always waited for Bones to fuck up, waited for that moment when he let down his guard and looked at Jim like he was something to be pitied, but it never came. Instead, Bones had set down two bottles of whiskey in front of him and said “If you can’t drink we can’t be friends.” And that was enough for Jim. 

They got shit faced drunk that night, and Jim laughed harder than he could ever remember and when he got up he had fallen face first onto the carpet and he was sure Bones had hurt something from laughing that hard. That was also the first time he ever heard Bones laugh and not some half assed noise that sometimes escaped his lips, but a real laugh and it had made Jim proud to have be the cause, even if he had to fall on his face to achieve it.

Thinking of those memories made Jim’s chest tight, he was being shipped off as some kind of peace offering to some planet tomorrow and he wasn’t sure if he would be coming back, if he would ever see Bones again. Jim thought about if he’d have to file Bones away with the rest of the people he had lost over the years, and suddenly he was angry. Why the hell did he have to be the one they picked, couldn’t they have picked someone else? Couldn’t they have just chosen a different way to prove trust, one that didn’t involve some unfortunate person to be uprooted from their life when they finally had a good thing going and stuck who knows where so they can play the middle man in federation affairs.  

“Jim, you alright?” Bones asks. It takes Jim a minute to realize he’s gripping the bottle tight enough that his fingers ache. He tastes copper in his mouth and his cheek stings, blood is welling up in his mouth, and he wants to laugh. Because isn’t that just fitting? Its the perfect metaphor for his life, blood follows him wherever he goes.

Jim leans over towards the trash can and spits it out, it clings to the side of the container, slowly sliding down towards the bottom, a mix of blood and saliva and whiskey.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Jim lies, and takes another swing. The blood pools at the bottom of the trash can. 

-

Jim wakes up to his alarm shrieking and a splitting headache, he groans as he smacks the alarm multiple times for good measure, it finally shuts up after the third hit. Jim slumps back down once the noise stops, fully intent on falling back asleep, but he’s suddenly aware of an ache in his lower back and a crick in his neck. He opens his eyes to see that he isn’t in his bed, in fact he’s nowhere near his bed. Instead he’s leaned against Bones’ mattress, sitting on the floor. They must’ve gotten too wasted to move and promptly passed out where they were, as Bones is still asleep next to him, both bottles empty and upturned on the floor in front of them.

The blood is still in the trash can. Its dried over night and is stuck to the bottom of the container, hardly visible now.

Jim groans again as he straightens up, his back protesting as he does so. He nudges Bones who grumbles and shifts away.

“Bones, come on, wake up,” He mumbles, his throat raspy and dry.

Bones makes a noise but stays asleep, Jim sighs and stands up, kicking at Bones again, who just swats at him. Jim rolls his eyes and gives up, figuring he’ll pack before trying to wake his best friend up again.

He showers quickly, dresses in his extra uniform, packs, and the whole time he wonders if it’s the last time he’ll be doing any of it. His chest tightens again and Jim thinks if it keeps tightening at this rate soon he won’t be able to breathe, he tells himself that’s worse than marriage. He doesn’t really believe that though.

Once he’s finished he goes back to the most challenge task, waking up Bones. Even though its nearly impossible to wake up this early, he knows Bones will be pissed if he doesn’t send Jim off, and although he’ll pretend his anger is directed at Jim, Jim knows its really directed at himself and he doesn’t want that. So Instead he nudges Bones once more.

“Hey, wake up, I have to leave soon,” Jim says loudly.

He receives a grunt in reply, but Bones finally opens his eyes. “What time is it?” His voice just as raspy as Jim’s.

“0500” Jim answers after checking his tablet. “And we have to leave by 0510 if we want to be there on time.”

Bones nods, looking Jim up and down. “You look like shit.”

“Wow, thanks,” Jim replies, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

Bones shrugs, “Shouldn’t have drank so much last night,”

“It was my bachelor party, I should’ve drank more,” Jim counters, watching as Bones stands up and grabs his clothes before slipping into the bathroom.

“Besides, Vulcans probably don’t do anything fun, it’d be just my luck,” Jim adds, he knows he sounds petulant, but he has a right, feels like he’s earned it.

Bones reappears from the bathroom a short while later, grabbing his PADD and wallet and ushering Jim out the door, and Jim thinks that Bones can’t wait to get rid of him for a bitter moment, but then feels bad for the thought. These are going to be the last few minutes in the foreseeable future that he gets to spend with Bones and he doesn’t want to waste them being mad about something that isn’t even correct. He still drags his feet though, still whines at Bones as they make their way down to the street. Its already busy, packed with people and vehicles alike and as they merge into the foot traffic, as they become part of the crowd, Jim can pretend that its just a normal day and they’re headed to campus. That they’ll only be apart for the length of a day full of classes. But Jim has never been good at pretending. So he wishes instead; wishes that this is some kind of screwed up prank, some terrible misunderstanding, that maybe they’ll get to the shipyard and Pike will be there saying that he was wrong and Jim doesn’t have to go to some uncharted planet and marry some random Vulcan and Bones and Jim will go back to their dorm and laugh about the whole thing.

Its unlikely, but Jim wishes anyway, he repeats it in his mind on a loop as they climb into a cab and Bones tells the driver their destination. Says it under his breath as Bones keeps a steady conversation with him throughout the ride. Taps it out rapidly on his knee as they reach the shipyard. Jim searches for any sign of Pike as they exit the cab and Bones asks if the driver minds waiting for a few minutes.

Pike isn’t there.

Disappointment sits heavy in his stomach as he is forced to accept that he is going to have to get into that shuttle and leave everything as he knows it behind. The thought freezes Jim to the core and he can’t move, he just stands there, staring ahead at the shuttle.

“I can’t do this,” Jim says, there is strain in his voice.

“Yes, you can, you just don’t want to,” Bones answers, hes standing next to Jim, staring ahead at the spacecraft as well. Anger flares up in Jim, and he glares at his friend.

“And you do?” He demands, he’s shouting. He’s shouting and he can’t stop, can’t contain it. The toxic, bitter substance from yesterday clawing its way out of Jim’s chest, refusing to be put away again. “You want me gone, is that it?” Its accusing and hurt and Jim hates himself for it, hates that he can’t end his time with Bones nicely, can’t have one last memory of happiness with his best friend, that instead he has to ruin it, has to give himself something else to regret.

“Damn it, Jim,” Bones snaps. “That’s not it and you know it.”

“Then what is it?”

“You have to do this, it’s been signed by the damn Admiral,” Bones is shouting now too. Unlike Pike, Bones has always been easy to rattle, easy to start fights with. But it never gives Jim satisfaction, instead he just feels guilty. “If you run away from this do you know what’s going to happen to you?”

Jim goes silent, looks away, back towards the waiting shuttle. It’s probably time to board, but Jim stays where he is. In front of Bones, just beyond the gates leading into the shipyard, trying to put as much distance and time between him and his forced future.

“Do you?” Bones snarls when Jim doesn’t answer. “I’ll tell you what they’ll do. They’ll put you on trial for disobeying and you’ll be lucky if they imprison you. This is completely political, Jim, and if you go against this...” He trails off, sighing. Jim doesn’t need Bones to finish his sentence, he knows what will happen, knows he’ll have to go along with this no matter what, that or face consequences of large magnitude. He never had a choice to begin with, he’d just fooled himself into thinking he did.

“This isn’t easy for me either,” Bone says, and when Jim looks back him, Bones is staring off over the plains of grass surrounding the shipyard. The sky is colored pink by the rising sun and although it’s cloudy now, Jim knows that it’ll clear up and the sun will be shining brightly by the time its high in its place above them. Jim also knows he won’t be able to see it. This is the last sunrise he’ll see on Earth till who knows when. Jim isn’t angry anymore, it’s drained out of him, like someone pulled a plug and everything spilled out and the only thing that stayed was weariness, and Jim is so weary.

He’s more surprised than he should be when Bones suddenly wraps his arms around him and pulls him into a hug. It’s not too tight and not too loose, its perfect, but then Jim doesn’t have a lot to compare it to, but he has a feeling that it would still be the best even if he had a lot more to compare. Bones is by no means touchy, the occasional pat on the shoulder here, rare arm around his shoulder there, but hardly ever hugs, but if any situation calls for one, it would sure as hell be this one. It feels like a home should, if Jim ever had one. The hug lasts too short for Jim and feels like leaving home when they pull apart. He feels cold even though its warm enough outside to wear a thin short sleeve shirt.

“Better go get on your shuttle,” Bones says, not unkindly.

Jim nods, he doesn’t trust himself to speak, not yet anyway. They stand in silence for a moment more, neither moving although they know they should. Jim is searching for his voice, trying to find something to say and Bones is waiting for him, like he always does.

“Well, I guess this is see you later,” Jim finally says, it doesn’t seem like enough, he thinks he should say something else, but he doesn’t know what. So he leaves it at that, and hates himself more for it.

“Looks like it,” Bones answers. “Keep in touch, kid, I’ll miss you.”

Jim snorts, a smile tugging at his lips for the first time since he woke up to the commotion of his alarm clock. “You say that now, but just wait, you’re gonna be throwing a celebration party by tomorrow night,” Jim replies, his tone is teasing, but a part of Jim is serious. He’s always felt a little bit like a burden to Bones, even if the older man never said anything or even remotely showed it.

Bones rolls his eyes. “Can’t, you drank all my good whiskey.”

Jim laughs, “My plan worked then.”

They lapse into silence once more, the only noise is the cawing of birds calling out to each other, and the quiet rumble of the cab behind them. Jim is late to board the shuttle craft and it looms over them, a constant reminder than Jim is way past due to leave, but he doesn’t care. He’ll be chewed out by the Admiral and Pike will sound disappointed and the pilot will keep shooting him annoyed looks but it’s worth it to spend these few dwindling moments with Bones.

“I have to get back to the dorms, class starts in an hour,” Bones breaks the silence, and Jim nods in understanding. As much as he wishes they could be frozen in this moment, not having to part and go separate ways, they can’t be. It’s strange, even when he thought about going on a five year mission and exploring space, he never thought for a second that Bones wouldn’t be right there with him. But he isn’t, he’s going back to Starfleet Academy and Jim is traveling light years away to get married to someone he’s never even heard of before. Jim knew life wasn’t fair, but he had at least hoped for a break. Guess life was unfair in that regard too.

Bones goes back to the cab where he pulls Jim’s baggage out of the truck and hands it off to Jim. They don’t say goodbye, the words won’t even pass his voice box. Goodbye has always felt too permanent and Jim has an irrational fear of jinxing it, like if he says goodbye then the world will take it as final and he’ll never see Bones again and Jim can’t risk that. So instead, he smiles and waves. Bones must’ve picked up on his fear of saying farewell, because he waves back as one corner of his lips pulls up in a somewhat crooked smile.  

And then Bones is climbing back into the cab, and then he’s driving away and Jim is watching him go and just like that, he’s gone. And Jim is standing alone outside the gate separating him from the shuttle waiting impatiently to take him away from everything he’s ever known.

He turns and starts walking. Passing through the gate feels more dramatic than it should, he has passed the gate before, but it’s different this time, or well, that’s what he tells himself. The walk is too short, despite Jim dragging his feet. He’s right about the pilot shooting him annoyed looks. As soon as Jim steps inside the shuttle, the hatch shuts automatically, almost catching Jim’s luggage. The pilot announces the time and destination as Jim puts his bags into the overhead compartment and takes a seat, extra emphasis on the “0557” which Jim rolls his eyes at and settles in for the trip that will take him to another ship to be beamed aboard and finally make the long trip to Vulcan. He tries not to think about it as his stomach lurches in a way that has nothing to do with the shuttle taking off. Instead he leans back, closes his eyes and falls into a dreamless sleep.

He wakes up to the shuttle landing and the pilot announcing over the intercom that they’ve reached their destination. Jim rubs his eyes and stands up, all too aware of how cramped his legs are and the loss of feeling in his ass from sitting in the seat for so long.  He stretches before grabbing his bags out of the compartment and exits the shuttle through the now open hatch. As soon as he steps out he’s ushered by two men with serious faces and red shirts to the transporter room. They don’t answer any of his questions and ignore all of his smart alec comments. Pushing him on the transporter platform and beaming him up on the ship in the space of what feels like two minutes. Jim feels light headed when all his atoms find each other on the beaming pad of the ship bound towards Vulcan.

The first thing he sees when his head clears is Pike. A very unhappy Pike.

“You’re late,” Pike informs him.

Jim shrugs, steps off the transporter pad. “I’m here now though.”

“We’re behind schedule, Jim,” Pike continues, Jim has a slight satisfaction as he realizes that Pike is irritated. Good, Jim was just as irritated yesterday when the man dropped this whole mess of a political ploy in his lap and said he had no choice but to agree, which Jim is proud to say he never did, not verbally at least, even if his actions may make it seem otherwise.

“Do you understand how this makes the federation look?” Pike is relentless, he should know that Jim has never held authority in high regard, and this whole ordeal is lowering his respect for every authoritarian figure out there, which Jim didn’t really think was possible.

“Bad, yeah, I get it,” Jim replies, “You guys look like real asswipes.”

“First impressions are important, Jim, especially in this situation,” Pike says, his voice is taking that firm tone on again, only this time it lets Jim know how disappointment he is, and Jim already knew that. But even still, it was worth it to spend more time with Bones before having to leave and face the crushing reality of everything.

“I’m already being forced into marriage with them, what more do you want from me?” Jim grumbles, frustration starting low in his stomach as it slowly builds.

“I want you to be on time,” Pike responds.

“Right, whatever, my bad, too late now,” Jim snaps, he feels overheated and itchy the way he always does when he’s agitated and he wants nothing more than to be back at the academy sending Bones stupid texts through his PADD to which Bones will answer with an annoyed ‘shut up and stop bothering me’. But instead he’s stuck on a ship headed to an unknown planet and a begrudging father figure is lecturing him on first impressions and punctuality.

Pike stops talking when he realizes that Jim isn’t paying attention. He purses his lips in annoyance, showing his displeasure in Jim’s actions, but he doesn’t say anymore on the subject which Jim is thankful for. Instead Pike just turns and leads Jim to an unoccupied room. His communicator chirps as they reach the door and Pike flips it open and a voice tells him he’s needed on the bridge, that they have an incoming transmission from Vulcan. Jim avoids eye contact with Pike, his previous bravado gone, and guilt is slinking in to steal its place before it can come back, he hadn’t meant to get Pike in trouble.

“You can use this room until we reach Vulcan,” Pike says, clipping his communicator back onto his belt. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some things to attend to, rest up. We’ll talk more later.” And then he’s disappearing down the hall to the bridge, making himself the second person today to leave Jim alone. Jim supposes he should get to use it if he’s to marry and live on Vulcan, although he hadn’t thought about it much, mostly focused on the going and not at all on the staying. But now that it’s in his mind he wonders if they’re just going to drop him off like some kind of welcoming gift, or if they’re going to stay with him, or maybe they’ll just make sure he’s situated somewhat and hasn’t made an ass of himself before leaving him alone on the strange new planet. None of those options are comforting. But neither has this whole situation so he guesses that it’s fitting.

He presses his hand to the control panel outside the room and the door slides open with a quiet hissing noise, as he steps inside, the door shuts behind him. He drops his bags to the floor and flops onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He feels restless and knows even attempting to sleep would just be a waste of time, so he just gets up, ruffles through his bags until he finds what he’s looking for. He sits crisscross on the floor next to his things and clicks on his PADD, he doesn’t pay attention to the notifications and instead goes immediately to contacts and taps Bones’ name. He isn’t sure if a message will send from where he is, but he types out a message anyway. Its full of complaints and thinly veiled bitterness but he sends it all the same. He waits, eyes glued to the screen, but no message arrives and Jim tries to talk himself out of feeling disappointed, Bones might be in class, or left his PADD in the dorm, or maybe it’s just taking a while to send. He sets the PADD down and goes back to lying on the bed, ears listening intently for any notification indicating that he’s received a message. He doesn’t know how long he lies there listening, but suddenly he's waking up without even realizing he had fallen asleep.

He feels groggy and his mouth is dry like someone stuffed several cotton balls into his cheeks while he was unconscious. In short, he feels like shit. He climbs out of bed, his PADD where he left it, the notification light isn’t flashing and Jim resists the urge to check it, trying to prove to himself that he isn’t that needy.   

He exits the room and makes his way down to the bridge, he doesn’t have to ask permission to enter as Pike is waving him forward.

“How’d you sleep,” He asks.

Jim knows the question is out of politeness and doesn’t bother answering, instead he says, “How long till Vulcan?”

“We should be arriving soon,” Pike replies. “There is a change in time zone from what we understand, should be barely dawn when we get there.”

Jim nods, not asking for details, he’s more focused on not throwing up right there on the captain’s chair, or rather dry heaving. He’s suddenly aware that he hasn’t eaten anything all day, so preoccupied with what lies ahead of him and how to adjust that he’s neglected basic needs. He voices a much before leaving the bridge and making his way to the dining area, selecting food from the replicator. He doesn’t eat much of it, picks at it instead. Although he’s barely eaten, his stomach protests painfully, every bite taking him closer to losing everything he managed to keep down, he eventually gives up and resigns himself to simply pushing the food around the plate. His mind a million miles away.

Maybe that’s why he doesn’t notice Pike’s presence until he sits down across from him. Jim doesn’t look up, eyes unfocused, turning the meal he’s pushing around with his fork into fuzzy blobs of color. Its silent and Jim is uncertain if Pike is going to say anything at this rate or if he just expects him to be a mind reader and he’s suppose to look up from his makeshift tower created from green and brown blobs and nod in understanding. When Jim doesn’t, Pike exhales. It sounds heavy and tired and it carries hints of mint to Jim’s nose.

“I don’t like this anymore than you,” Pike finally says. Jim snorts, not saying anything else. He’s said all he had to yesterday when Pike first broke the news that he was nothing more than a bartering chip. “Wish there was something I could do, son.”

Jim’s grip on his fork tightens and he mashes his tower into the plate, blinking several times to bring his eyes back into focus. The causal ‘son’ at the end of Pike’s sentence sends a flare up of anger in his chest. He isn’t allowed to say that, not when he’s personally dropping Jim off like some kind of party favor for joining The Federation.

Pike sighs again, somehow it sounds more tired than the first. “We’re approaching Vulcan, I suggest you gather your things and meet me in the transporter room,” He informs Jim as he stands, like he realizes that Jim doesn’t have anything to say, bitterness clogging up his throat.

Jim stands up as well, following Pike to the door, dropping his tray into the designated space. They turn different ways as they reach the hall; Pike turning right, back to the bridge. Jim taking a left as he returns to his temporary room. He doesn’t need to pack, having not taken anything out of his bags while he was there. His fingers itch to check his PADD, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t think he can take the disappointment if Bones has yet to reply. Jim feels so unbalanced, like he’s teetering on some kind of edge, trying desperately not to fall, trying not to disappear into the abyss that lies waiting just below him. Every step towards the transporter room takes him closer to the abyss. Closer to falling into the void.

Pike is waiting with a few red shirts, ready to beam down when Jim enters the room. As Jim takes his place on the transporter pad Pike turns to him. “We don’t know how Vulcans react, so be respectful and watch yourself.”

Jim can read between the lines. Pike wants him to not open his smart mouth, not screw this up, wants him to take his future gracefully. But Jim’s life has never been graceful and if anyone thinks he can look at the cards life dealt him and keep a poker face when he’s staring down at a two and a three, then they’ve never met Jim before. But Jim knows that this is just wistful thinking from Pike. So he doesn’t take offense, instead he nods, and Pike understands that’s the best he’s going to get. So he turns back to the technician standing behind the panel.

“Beam us down.”

The first thing Jim notices when his particles combine again on the surface of Vulcan is that it’s hot, Jim would go so far as to say it’s hotter than summers in Iowa. The sun scorches the back of Jim’s neck and he can already feel himself sweating.

The second thing he notices is that its hard to breath, not too bad, he just feels as if he isn’t getting enough oxygen to satisfy his lungs, like he’s always one inhale away from getting all the air he needs. He’s experience this before, knows that it’s a thin atmosphere and Jim doesn’t know how he’s suppose to live here when his body is already protesting the air alone.

The last and final thing he notices seconds after beaming down, is that his body feels heavy. As though as weight is pushing down on him, only unlike the way he felt the day before in Pike’s office, this is literal, every movement is sluggish. Feels like he’s moving through water, having to push back against the gravitational pull harder than he’s used to.

“Greetings,” A voice calls out to them, and it grabs Jim’s attention. Standing in front of them are two tall men, or well, Vulcans. Their ears are pointed and their jaws are sharp, noses upturned. They wear identical expressions of indifference. They’re draped in black tunics, black slacks. Hands placed behind them as they stand in rest. Jim wonders how they can bear to be dressed so heavily in this heat. Jim’s sweating through his red uniform and he can tell just from looking that their tunics are heavier than his jacket.

Pike steps forward, “Greetings, My name is Christopher Pike, Captain of the USS Enterprise. We’re expected.”

One of the Vulcan’s nod, the taller of the two. “Of course, follow us,” is all that is said before both Vulcans turn and lead them towards the large structure they’ve been beamed down in front of. Now that Jim has taken the time to adjust to the climate and atmospheric conditions, he’s able to take in his surroundings.

There isn’t much to see, mostly just expansions of sand and desert, the slight wind creating patterns on the dunes. The building in front of them is more interesting. Its tall, Jim has to tilt his head all the way back in order to see the top and it makes him dizzy. The structure itself is a dark gray, standing apart from the golden sand and blue skies in stark contrast, looking almost like a shadow.

They them lead into a spacious entrance, their footsteps echo as they cross the room, the emptiness makes Jim’s stomach twist and suddenly he regrets forcing himself to eat anything, after all if he did throw up then he wouldn’t of had anything to throw up, but now, if he threw up then his meal would be getting acquainted with his future husband as well, or that’s where Jim thought they might be taking him.

Once they reach the door, the two Vulcans stand beside it, facing Jim and the rest of his group, the taller of the two gestures to the entrance. Pike walks past them and is enveloped into the darkness that the door is open to. Jim hesitates as the rest of the group enters, wondering if he still has time to escape. He doesn’t. So instead he takes a deep breath, his lungs asking for more oxygen and follows the last of the red shirts through the door.

The door leads to a bigger room, it’s as spacious as the entrance, or as far as Jim can tell it is, the lights illuminate the area dimly. In front of them a barrier of stands curve in, circling the middle. The stands are tall enough to that Jim has to tilt his head up, at the top of each sits a Vulcan, and Jim suddenly realizes that they have to be some kind of authority. Pike is standing in front of them, and they stare down at him, their faces blank, unfeeling. Besides the stands, just off the right, stands another Vulcan, younger than any of the others, he stands straight and at attention. His dark hair blending into the darkness behind him. His jaw is as sharp as the Vulcans who had guided them to the room, his nose upturned, ears pointed. Expression carefully blank. Jim wouldn’t have noticed him if he wasn’t so hyper aware. But he is, so he does.

Jim takes his place besides Pike, swallowing thickly, nerves are twisting around in his stomach and he is doing his best not to let it get to him.

“Greetings, Captain Pike,” The Vulcan in the forefront speaks. His hair is white and he has more wrinkles carved into his face than Jim thought would be possible, he has an air of superiority surrounding him and Jim’s hands clench.

“Greetings, Council,” Pike returns, “And greetings from The Federation, we hope to find you in good health.”

Jim tries to restrains the urge to scoff, he hopes the whole council kneels over there right then and there so they can call this union off and Jim can go home to Earth and Bones and sunrises and everything familiar that he was ripped away from.

The Vulcan nods, “How long do you intend to stay?” He asks, not interested in small talk, getting right to the heart of things, and Jim can respect that, as much as he can in the moment.

“We require the union to be signed so we can take it back to The Federations,” Pike answers. And Jim feels overheated and itchy again. To have all this done right in front of him as if he was nothing but a product being paid for made him want to snap, but he held himself back, his hands unclenching.

“Very well,” The Counselor recedes, “We cannot sign until the trust has been proven. We will give you the required document after the union is complete.”

“Then we will stay until then,” Pike informs the council. “Thank you for your time.” He turns to leave, but Jim can’t move.

“Excuse me, when am I suppose to ‘complete this union’?” Jim doesn’t realize he’s spoken until the words are out there, hanging in the thin atmosphere.

The Vulcan turns his attention to Jim and so does Pike, who shots him a sharp look, Jim doesn’t have to see it to know what he’s trying to communicate. ‘ _What are you doing?’_  

“You are to be married tomorrow at sunset as it is the tradition,” The Council answers.

“So it’s tradition to arrange marriages with unwilling participants?” Jim can’t stop talking, he knows it’s a bad idea, should just shut his mouth, thank them like Pike and leave. But he can’t, he’s too angry, everything welling up him and refusing to dissipate.

“Jim!” Pike snaps, firm. It’s a warning and that just fuels Jim more. He whirls on Pike.

“What? Was I expected to take this quietly?” Jim asks, he’s getting louder, one notch down from yelling, and his voice echoes around the room.

“Jim, that enough,” Another warning, Pike is trying to get him to stop, but its no use. The agitation has simmered under his skin long enough and is burning its way out, rising through his chest and pouring out his throat in loud tones.

“No! Its not!” Jim is yelling now, his voice amplified by the space of the room. “This shouldn’t be allowed, but you say that you can’t do anything. Like The Admiral owns me or something can just sign me away without my consent, like I’m some kind of object!”

He’s too far into his rant, tuned everything else but the blood rushing in his ears. So he doesn’t hear the sound of footsteps as they approach, doesn’t notice the presence of someone else, not until its too late and he’s taken a breath to continue shouting and a chilled hand is sliding against his neck and then there is pressure and then there is nothing.

Just blackness.

The last thing Jim remembers is two eyes staring back at him passively as his own close and he wonders briefly in that space between aware and unconscious, why a Vulcan has such human eyes.


End file.
